The Pint

The Buck Stops Here

Perched at the bar, tippy toes gingerly resting on the only remaining rung on the stool… of course the last. One hand clutching this glass of badly poured Guinness, waiting on the big giant head to settle, so I go back to pretending to give a shite about the Hockey game on the TV. I wonder now if running away back home was the best life choice.

The stench of stale solitude and … urine, old liquor… and?…er…I don’t even want to hasten a guess, waft up around me. Some thing’s never change.

I can still hear Sarah’s high pitched voice on the other end of the line still ringing in my ears. If nothing else, I’ve mastered shock & awe.

WHAT !!!! You’re where? Why?

I quit last week…I moved back to The Village. I’m home. I could not spend even one more single day creating that clap-trap shite I was being paid to replicate for those idiots. My work was of no value. Well, beyond my ability to ape their competitors. Those corporate bastards will suck you dry once they’ve lured you in, the Metro is littered in the corpses of has beens, sucked dry of every ounce of spirit and creativity they may have ever had. And, believe me, some of my cohorts didn’t have much to offer up to begin with. “

And Donald? What about him?

That’s over as well. That me is dead, I buried her back on the highway

Clean slate, no ties, no tendrils to lure me back.

Damn it all, now the whole bunch are going to be ringing me up to scream in my ear. OFF you go, can’t deal with that right now.

Done though. And I’ve made it back here to my starting point. Olly Olly In Free.

And, dang, this bar hasn’t changed.

The smells have increased, but the place looks as funky and as creepy as it always did. No idea why I’m here. Well, ‘cept for the location.

So, now I suppose I need to round up a client or three.

Finding that studio apartment so quick was a streak of luck. And smack dab at the heart of The Village…someone heard my prayers. Though, seriously, did it have to be right across the road from this damn bar? Self-control, girlfriend, self-control.

Geesh, hell, one more won’t hurt.

Danny boy… I’ll have another. This time though, think perhaps we could  muster up a little patience and let er sit and settle some? Don’t they teach you this? Guinness gets poured slow, and easy. It needs time to settle“.

Trying to be the quickest draw in the Southend?

Oops. Maybe I’m being a picky…? I think I pissed him off.

Yip. He’s pissy.

SLAM…You do know my names David, right? We were in homeroom together all through High School, TK, think you dated my older brother even. Could you atleast get my fucken name right? That’ll be $6.50… and if you don’t like the pouring, go somewhere else. And bite me .

OoooiKkkkk… sensitive much?

David, David, David, how could I forget thee? I suck at names, just so ya know. Suck. Really really really suck at names…nothing personal. Faces? Etched in stone. Names? Not so much.

But seriously, it has been like, what? 20 years? Give me a break.

You didn’t spit in this did you?

I didn’t spit in your beer…I thought about it, sure, crossed my mind.

Still the friendly beee-at-ch I recall. And, what’s with the patch of shaved head, and pink and blue hair? Lose a bet? Aren’t you a little old for that sort of shit?

Funny. You’re a funny guy, David, forgot about your bum-fuck-nowhere humour. It’s called character dear. You know, there are places in the world where everyone doesn’t look alike?


So, when one awakes in the morn, a heady scent of musk and mayhem in the air, with daylight streaming in upon this naked supine body beside me, how is one to feel?

Regretful? Ah, nope.

Happy? Maybe, we’ll see. Oh, the beast stirs…I see an eye has opened.

“And so they called it, puppy looooveeee… and …I don’t remember the rest of the words…how you doing, sweetheart? Awake I see.”

Um. Yes. Coffee?


Give me a sec…or 10.

Where the hell my wrap go. There. Don’t think he needs to see my giggly ass first thing.

I do wonder who told him he could sing though? Cause he can’t.

Where’s the damn French Press. Kettle on.


Course, can’t say I’ve been serenaded in bed before, and certainly not one crooning old sappy 70’s songs, and looking like some rock god.

Shit. I have those proposals to finish.

Cream and sugar?

“No, black.”

Here ya go.”

Got the beans from that shop here in town. All 100% organic, and Amazon friendly.

“Ok, now I hope you don’t find this rude, but after this, you gotta be on your way, k? I know, kinda rude, but have some prep work for a proposal I’m doing for a couple new clients. I just moved back, and these could lead to others. Need to build up my network.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. No, no, push away. No worries, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. Mind if I call?”

Sure, certainly. I’d like that.

Here, what’s your cell? I’ll text you”.

“Right, no, I don’t have a cell. Just write it down, here. Thanks.”

Well, he’s a primitive sort. No cell phone. How Stone Age. And he certainly has a nice ass.

So, now what DO we make of him Cassandra?

Do you like him?

Fine. Just lie there and purr. Keeping mum. Probably smart. The bed is yours.

More from Tales Of The Village

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